


Sunrises, sparkles, and bad excuses

by misspurr



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal, Reveal, don't you just love clothing so horrific that you can identify it immediately, just our fluffy baker baby bein a good caring friend, mlsecretsanta2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 20:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspurr/pseuds/misspurr
Summary: All Marinette had to do was fix a pair of pants. It was 6 in the morning, she'd gotten about an hour's worth of sleep, and she had to sneak into Adrien Agreste's house to do it. Which she would've been absolutely fine with! Except one teeny tiny problem.These pants were the most horrific creation she'd seen in her entire life.And it wasn't the first time she'd seen them.





	Sunrises, sparkles, and bad excuses

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first attempt at writing a fic, ever, and i'm really pleased with out it came out, to be honest  
> this was for @ghostnoseboop on tumblr for the mlsecretsanta 2017 exchange :D i really hope you like it, kelley!!

_Brrzzt. Brrzzt. Brrzzt. Brrzzt._

Marinette groaned, slapping at the source of the obnoxious noise sounding in her ear. She could swear she’d only just closed her eyes. Surely she could wait another five minutes to get up, right? Patrol had gone on far too late last night - she and Chat had been having such a great time, the two lost track of the time, and the early summer sun was just peeking out above the horizon when they’d finally departed. Playing tag late at night on the rooftops was apparently pretty exhausting, because as soon as she’d swung in her window and laid down on her bed, she’d passed out. She didn’t even remember detransforming.

She stretched out and went to curl up again, willing to ignore the tingling feeling in the back of her brain that she was supposed to be doing something, until she heard the noise again. She shuffled around under her pillow and found her phone, blinking away the sleep that fogged her eyes. She stared at the screen for a moment, blinked a few times, and immediately went to sit up, gracefully hitting her head on the ceiling. She yelped, rubbing her head, and hesitantly looked at her phone again. 

Why on earth was Adrien Agreste, the love of her life, the most handsome boy she'd ever met and arguably the most handsome boy in all of Paris, calling her at six o’clock in the morning?

She'd have expected him to get up this early - he obviously needed a ton of time to get ready in the morning if he came to school every day looking like that. Smelling like he did, though, she had to wonder how often he showered. But that was besides the point. He was up this early in the morning, and she was usually not, and she felt like she was going to melt into a puddle because her bed was so soft, but Adrien was calling her, but she still wanted to sleep, and she’d hardly gotten sleep anyway, so she needed it, and she had a test tomorrow, and-- _oh my god Adrien Agreste was calling her and she hadn’t answered yet._ Her panicked mind sped up even further. He probably thought she hated him, otherwise she would pick up, or maybe he thought she was still asleep, which was probably perfectly reasonable given her reputation for sleeping in, but that wasn’t the point, because she was awake and she wasn’t answering, and she couldn’t just not answer, but if she picked up too late, then he’d think she’d made him wait on purpose, and--

“Marinette, pick up the phone already!” Tikki cried, shoving it towards her and yawning sleepily. “It’s just a phone call. It’ll be easier than talking to him in person, I promise.” The kwami rubbed her huge eyes and settled on Marinette’s shoulder as the girl hesitated. “If you don’t pick up now, you’ll have to call him back and you’ll end up apologizing over and over. He probably needs something if he’s calling you this early in the morning.” 

Marinette looked nervously at her phone, which was still vibrating in her hand. Tikki was right. With a deep breath, she jammed her finger on the green “answer” button and held the device up to her ear. “H-hello? Adrien?”

“Marinette? Good, you’re awake. I didn’t wake you up, did I?” His voice sounded tense, but he seemed genuinely concerned, like he’d let her sleep even if it meant he’d have to inconvenience someone else.

Marinette grimaced, debating whether she should tell him she was awake. She decided against it - he’d always been honest with her, and she preferred the full, honest truth over a sugar coated half-truth.”I was sleeping,” she admitted, “but it’s--”

He cut in. “I’m sorry. I can call someone else, and you can go back to sleep. It wasn’t that important anyway...”

“No, no, it’s fine! Really! It’ll be hard to get back to sleep anyway. Er, I mean… I might as well help you since I’m already awake, right? D-did you need something? Umm, I kind of assumed you needed something since you called this early, because why else would you be calling me? I mean, it’s just me, after all, and…” Marinette faded off. What was he calling her for, anyway? What could he possibly need from her? She was sure there were plenty of other people who would’ve been delighted to help him, unless he needed the heroine of Paris to help him make breakfast.

“Actually, yeah. I kinda… well, I wasn’t supposed to be out last night, but I was, and I accidentally ripped something I’m supposed to wear in a shoot this afternoon. If Father finds out…” There was a pause. “What I’m saying is, I need an emergency repair to an outfit, and you’re really the only person I know who can fix it without it being obvious… do you think you could come over? Or maybe I could drop it off over at your house, but I have to have it by the end of the school day...” 

Her muscles tensed. She couldn’t let him come here, or she’d have to go through the trouble of tearing down all her posters again! Plus, she looked horrible in her pajamas, and her eyes looked droopy and tired, her sleep patterns revealed by the dark bags underneath them. She’d rather have a chance to wake up fully and prepare herself for the eyes of another human being. “O-of course I can fix it! Um, it’ll be a few minutes, and I have to let my parents know, but I should be there by…” she glanced at her alarm clock. “6:20-ish? I’ll bring my sewing kit with me too, unless you have one there already, but I can see how that would draw suspicion if you got caught trying to sneak it away- not to imply that you’d have to sneak around your own house, er…” She stopped. “I-I’ll try to be there as soon as I can. Um, what material is the… thing? What exactly am I fixing?” She moved her phone over to her right shoulder so she could hold it there with her cheek, smiling apologetically at Tikki when the kwami flew across the room to go back to sleep her bag. 

“It’s a pair of pants. Just black polyester. It shouldn't be too hard to fix, I don't think. The tear isn't on the seam or anything. I caught my leg on a corner when I was… well, I was running around, and I wasn’t paying attention. Luckily my leg was fine, but the pants weren’t.” 

A brief memory of the night before sprung to mind. She remembered Chat showing off a pair of ridiculous, sequined black pants and jumping around in them as she laughed so hard her lungs ached and her stomach hurt and her cheeks felt stretched from smiling. He’d been laughing almost as hard as she had - that was, until he misstepped and almost went plunging to his death off a building. She’d been scared into a horrified silence interrupted only by the tearing noise the pants made when the knee caught on the edge of the roof as he pulled himself up from where he’d hung against the side of the building. They’d been careful for the rest of the night, but she made him swear to pay attention from then on. She’d expected a joke about cats having nine lives, but to her surprise, he’d simply nodded, his pale face betraying something akin to horror or dread. The fall must’ve scared him more than she’d thought.

She waved away the image. This was Adrien, not Chat, and he was trying to ask her for help with something. “Just polyester. Got it,” Marinette confirmed, stretching her fingers to wake them up as she poked through her sewing kit and made sure everything she needed was there. “Um, I kinda need both arms, so I, uh... I’ll be over in a bit, I guess?? Okay, bye!” She hung up as quickly as possible.  
That was the most stressful conversation she’d ever had in her entire life.

She finished packing up the little bag in no time at all and, after scrambling into clothing suitable for the light of day and grabbing a blueberry muffin for each of them, Marinette headed out the door for Adrien’s house.

\---------

It wasn’t long before she arrived, and she was about to ring the doorbell before she heard someone shush her. She turned around, startled, and was preparing herself for a confrontation when she saw Adrien standing there, shaking his head. “We can’t go in the front door. It’ll make too much noise, and my father doesn’t know you’re here.”

Oh. Duh. She should’ve thought of that. But then how were they going to get inside?

It was as though he read her thoughts. “Come this way. I have another way to get in. How do you think I got out of here in the first place?” He took her hand and led her around the building - he was saying something quietly as they walked, but she was too focused on their interlocked fingers to listen properly. She was glad her legs had an autopilot setting for when she couldn’t control them herself.  
“--lift you up and you can climb to the window,” he finished, looking at her expectantly. “Got it?”

“Ummm…” He laughed, catching on immediately, and her face flushed red. “I really did mean to listen. It’s just your house is so big, and I couldn’t stop looking at you-- I mean, I couldn’t stop looking at the house! I-it’s kind of bland for such a big house, and I couldn’t help but think that it could use some decoration... n-not to say that your house is boring! It just doesn’t have that much color, and it looks kind of empty.” She finished, looking helplessly at him. She was supposed to be quiet, and she’d just been rambling on. He looked like he was trying to stop laughing, at least, but it was still embarrassing.

“Don’t worry about it, Marinette. I can repeat myself, you know.” She felt his green eyes on her as she looked away. “I was just saying that I would have to help you up to the window. It’s not that hard to get up there, as long as you’re not afraid of heights. I even have a ladder, if you really need it. The window is already be open.” She nodded slowly, and he waited for her to look at him again. “Ready? I really can go get someone else if you want.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be fine,” she said decisively, and went to stand underneath the window. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. “How are you supposed to get up?”

He waved his hand in the air as though dismissing her concern. “I have my ways,” he responded vaguely, leaving her to only ponder. 

It wasn’t long before she was half-climbing, half-falling into his room, with him soon after (only he was more graceful about it). As soon as she was back on her feet, he handed her the sewing kit. Rather than question how he’d gotten it up if he’d had to use both hands to climb, she looked around his room. She’d been here before, but not as Marinette. She supposed she should look a little more surprised at the size of his room, but she was a little too distracted when she spotted the object she was supposed to mend.

When he saw her gaping, his hand went up to rub his neck. “Ah… I guess I should’ve warned you about how big the tear was. Did you bring enough thread?” He asked, concerned, but she didn’t hear a word he said. 

Her mind was trying to process the pair of ridiculous, sequined, black pants that were lying across his couch, sparkling tauntingly at her. 

Surely there was an explanation. He’d said he was using them for a shoot this afternoon. They didn’t seem like they should be worn in public, let alone in a photoshoot. Maybe he’d borrowed them from someone? Or maybe Chat Noir had borrowed them from him? Surely this couldn’t be the same pair of pants. She continued staring at them, trying to find any evidence that would disprove the nagging idea in the back of her head. His eyebrows furrowed as she stayed silent, mental breakdown completely invisible.

“Where did you get those?” She asked, breath shaky. 

“Uh… they’re from Father’s newest line. Why? I know they look a little odd. I honestly wonder what Father is thinking sometimes when he chooses which outfits I’m supposed to model. They’re a little more sparkly than I’m used to.” He chuckled. When she still didn’t respond, he stepped closer to her. “Marinette? Is something going on?” 

This snapped her out of her panic. “I-i- uh, n-no, it’s just… these look exactly like Ch- I mean, I think last night, I saw these somewhere… um, I was sitting on my balcony, and… that’s right! I saw Chat Noir with some sparkly pants, a-and they kind of looked like these. That’s all.” What a weak lie. Surely even he could see through this one.

His worried expression flashed between a few emotions - panic, then dread, then something she couldn’t read. “R-really? That’s funny! Usually the new pieces take a few months to get out on the market, but maybe Chat Noir was able to get some from Father… for… being the superhero of Paris?” Even he seemed to question the end of the sentence. He looked miserable.

“Y-you couldn’t… he... er, how did… w-where’d the...” She stopped, her words fading away as everything sunk in. She didn’t want this to be how she found out, but her brain kept making connections. Blonde hair, green eyes, cat puns, strange disappearances during akuma attacks, expensive gifts, family problems, the ring he wore on his finger. The ring! She glanced at his hand where it hung at his side. Chat Noir’s ring usually rested on his right ring finger, didn’t it? 

“Marinette, wait, I can explain--”

Had she looked up instead, maybe things would’ve been different. She could have pretended that she didn’t know, could’ve gone through the patrols wondering, yet never having the courage to ask.  
She found herself struck dumb with this thought as the realization was finalized, with Adrien’s ring - sitting on his right ring finger - making it absolute; Adrien Agreste was Chat Noir, and nothing short of the hero himself could change the harsh truth crashing down upon her. She looked up to meet his eyes. His beautiful, green eyes, the ones that she’d always longed to look deep into, the ones that were always on her during battles when they shouldn’t be, the ones that held so much love and warmth and feeling. “Adrien, are you…” She swallowed, finding the words too difficult to speak aloud.

He seemed to understand what she was asking, and accepted it much quicker than she’d expected. With a sigh, he tugged at his overshirt. He muttered something, and Marinette thought she heard a grumble in return. “Plagg, I don’t know what else to do,” he said frustratedly, and undoubtedly louder than he’d meant to, because he glanced at her for a moment before looking back down and whispering something in a threatening tone. She heard another sigh, and suddenly a black blur swept out from Adrien’s shirt and appeared in front of her nose. 

“Hey there, kiddo.”

Startled, Marinette tripped backwards trying to dodge it. She’d been expecting a kwami, but she hadn’t expected it to be _right in her face._ She heard Adrien’s shout of surprise as she tumbled over the couch, her pent-up nervous laughter tumbling out with her. “I-i-i’m okay,” she dismissed over her fit of giggles, “j-just st-startled!” She sat up, legs tucked beneath her as she wiped a tear from her eye. “B-but you… how did you even… god, I’m so _blind!_ ” She kept laughing even as he sat next to her, looking puzzled. 

“Marinette, what are you talking about? Aren’t you _supposed_ to be surprised?” He looked so adorably confused, it only made her laugh harder. He shared a puzzled glance with the floating blur - Plagg, as he’d been addressing it shortly before - as they waited for her to calm down.

When she could finally stop giggling - and it took a while - she explained herself. “It makes so much sense now, but… I thought you’d be so different!” She couldn’t say she was disappointed, but she was definitely not expecting… well, Adrien. But if Adrien was really Chat Noir, then that meant that everything she’d done with Chat Noir she’d done with Adrien - fought akumas, made jokes, stayed up late at night sitting on rooftops… 

“OhmygodIkissedAdrienAgresteandIdidn’tknowit,” she blurted, before she could stop herself. Panic set in when he started to look at her, making things worse. “Not even as myself, because maybe that would’ve been okay, but it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t okay, and it was only to save you. But you didn’t even remember it until I brought it up, and now--” She froze immediately, mouth still open with words that had yet to be spilled. By now, Adrien looked even more bewildered, and Plagg was cackling uproariously at her. She flushed in embarrassment. He’d definitely heard what she said. Every word of it. Adrien, it seemed, had not, but she suspected it wouldn’t be long before she either had to explain herself or attempt another bluff.

“Brought up what?” He asked, though somewhat cautiously. “I only caught a little bit of that, you were going so fast.” Plagg, who had briefly stopped to look at him, laughed even harder than before. Adrien glared at him. “What is it, Plagg?” 

“You don’t see anything! You’re even more blind than she is!” He sputtered out between fits. “You really should pay more attention to the people around you and less time daydreaming about Ladybug.”  
Daydreaming about Ladybug?

Now it was Adrien’s turn to blush. As her eyes darted to meet his, she found his darting avoid hers. “Plagg, we can talk about this later. One of my best friends just found out about my secret identity, and I need to get my pants sewn up before the shoot…” 

“W-wait, you daydream about m- Ladybug?” Marinette stuttered, and his blush fiercened, but he lifted his face to look at her.

“As Chat Noir, I’ve always liked Ladybug. I’ve been pretty clear about it. Isn’t reasonable that I think about her when I’m not transformed?” Adrien reasoned, looking uncomfortable. “Anyway, that’s not important. The pants...”

He thought about her when he wasn’t transformed? She never thought to consider that he was being sincere when he declared his adoration to her. “Doesn’t Chat Noir flirt with all the girls in Paris?” She asked weakly. The reasoning sounded flawed now that she knew who Chat Noir really was - Adrien didn’t seem like the type of guy to do that.

“What? Where did you get that idea?” He asked, clearly flustered. 

“Wh-wh… but I thought… what about Evillustrator?? Why kiss my hand if you weren’t flirting?” She argued, feeling silly. Something told her she should stop, but for some reason, she couldn’t let this go.

“It was an act of courtesy!” He told her. “You thought I was flirting?”

“Well, you kiss my hand all the time, so what was I supposed to think?”

“All the time? The only person whose hand I kiss is Ladybug’s!” 

There was silence for a moment as the words echoed around them, and she suddenly realized her mistake. Her heart thumped hard in her chest as he looked at her, a series of emotions flickering over his face so fast she couldn’t process any of them. She swallowed, and his eyebrows furrowed. Even Plagg made no sound.

“My lady?”

Marinette turned red and started to muster up a weak denial when he started laughing. “I called Ladybug at six in the morning to fix a pair of pants that I ripped when I was on patrol with her,” he marveled. He looked at her and shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. It should’ve been obvious!” 

“What makes it so obvious?” She demanded, and realized she’d just further confirmed his theory. She supposed it didn’t really matter - the reason for keeping their identities a secret in the first place had been to keep them safe, but if she already knew his identity, it would make more sense for him to know hers. 

“Well, you’re brave. You don’t let people boss you around. You’re tough, but you’re sweet. You’re smart and beautiful. You’re graceful, and sometimes clumsy, but you always fix your mistakes. And you’re a good friend, most of all. Not to mention the physical similarities.” When she gaped at him, looking remarkably like a fish struggling to breathe, he grinned, and he looked he was about to say something when a tiny voice interjected.

“Marinette, I know you’re a little distracted, but you came here for a reason!” Tikki poked her head out of her tiny purse. “Remember? The pants?”

“The… oh, right. Thanks, Tikki.” She looked at Adrien. “Let’s fix those horrifying pants, shall we?” Losing her nerve as she remembered who it was she was looking at, she turned away and pulled her sewing kit close to her, glad for the excuse. “I, uh… brought you a muffin, by the way,” she said, back still turned to him. “I remembered you telling me that you liked blueberry muffins, and I thought, maybe all the famous blondes in my life like blueberry.” She grabbed her needle and thread, and after putting everything else away, she closed up the bag, setting it on the couch as she handed him the muffin. She picked up the pair of pants as he immediately started in on the muffin, and she smiled. “Oh, and by the way...”

He looked up from his muffin.

“Sparkly pants aren’t discreet, Chat.”


End file.
